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Chapter Text

The sky beneath the port was the color of burned charcoal. The storm was imminent and the sharp scent of ozone hung thick in the air. You inhale deep and let the taste of the petrichor saturate your tongue. 

He’ll be here soon. He promised. 

You push up the sleeve of your cardigan and check your watch for the fifth time since you’ve arrived. You swallow past the anxiety simmering in your gut. He’s late. Forty-five minutes late. Caleb was nothing if not punctual when it comes to you. His respect for timeliness was drilled into him long before he ever became a soldier.

Now though, the clock ticks ever forward. You can’t help but worry about why he’s been held up. You check your phone again for a text acknowledging his absence that you know isn’t there. The anxiety eats away at your insides. Did you get the date wrong? You both agreed to take this weekend off, right? Did he misunderstand? Did you? Did something happen to him? Is he alright? What if he’s hurt? What if he’s grievously injured? What if you’re sitting here mad at him and he’s in danger?

The sky cracks open above your head and the first pelting drops of rain begin their descent. The port awning above your head keeps you dry, but the mist of the rain hitting the pavement splashes onto your exposed legs. 

Heavy footsteps click over the slick pavement. Your head turns quickly at the sound, but you have to temper your disappointment when you see it’s just an officer seeking shelter from the rain. 

You swallow past the lump in your throat and check your phone again. The last text you sent him telling him you arrived was delivered, but not read. So he has service. He just hasn’t looked at his phone. 

Caleb, where are you?

“Some storm, huh?” The officer says mildly. 

Your eyes flicker over to him in acknowledgement. He’s young. About your age. 

“Yeah,” you reply blandly in response.

The wind picks up. You shiver atop the bench and fold your arms tight across your chest, conserving your warmth. The cardigan you wore was thin. You didn’t want it to hide the dress you wore. It was simple and pretty, and you couldn’t wait for Caleb to see you in it when you first picked it out. 

Now though, you just feel like an idiot. A cold, exposed idiot. 

Stupid late dummy, Caleb. I’m gonna make him pay for this. He’d better be ready to grovel for my forgiveness.

“You cold?” The young officer asks.

You glance over at him again, and notice that he’s come a lot closer. He’s peering down at you where you sit on the bench. His face is neutral, making it hard to tell his intentions. You keep your guard up.

“I’m fine,” you say, brushing him off. 

You open your phone and make a show of scrolling disinterestedly through your social media apps. The officer doesn’t take the hint. Instead, he moves to sit right next to you on the bench. 

“Need a ride beautiful?” 

You cringe, alarm bells ringing in your head. You stand up from the bench, putting some much needed distance between the two of you. 

“My boyfriend will be here soon,” you snap. 

You can’t help but feel bitter as the words taste like a lie. Whenever Caleb got here, you knew he would play along with the role of overprotective boyfriend perfectly, if it meant scaring off a creep. You’d both done it for each other many times before. 

But hope that he would show up soon was dying by the second. You don’t know what to do. The last train to Linkon departed shortly after you arrived. You knew Caleb’s address, but since Skyhaven was more military base then real city, there weren’t any taxis around. You knew you couldn’t walk. He lived too far away.  

Your phone buzzes in your palm and your relief is immediate when you see Caleb’s name light up across the screen. 

Caleb: Be there soon

Your fingers fly across the keyboard

You: Please hurry

His response is immediate

Caleb: Are you okay?

Caleb: What’s going on? 

You choke through the relief at knowing he’ll be here soon. 

You: I’m fine

You: There’s a guy being creepy

You: Hurry

You clutch your phone in a white-knuckled grip. There’s some peace now that you know Caleb is on his way and that he knows a guy is trying to come on to you. But the peace it brings is infinitesimal compared to the fear that lances through your blood, pricking your bones and tendons with the need to flee.

Caleb: Be there in 5

Caleb: Get away from him

Caleb: Find security

Caleb: Don’t be afraid to make a scene if you have to

Caleb: I’ll be there soon

Caleb: Don’t panic

Caleb: You’re a hunter

Caleb: Fuck him up if you have to

Caleb: If you can’t

Caleb: I’ll fuck him up for you

“You’ve got a shitty boyfriend. Making you wait for him while you’re all alone during a storm. It’s getting pretty late too.” He asks pointedly while standing up with you. 

The alarm bells in your head ring louder. Caleb’s right, you need to get away from this guy. You had hoped that if you showed enough disinterest it would discourage him from continuing his advances, but he’s only getting more bold. You take a step back towards the main terminal with your backpack tight in your grasp. 

Thunder claps loud, shaking the roots of the trees and vibrating the air. You yelp and curl in on yourself, jumping back from the edge of the awning. Your heart rate quadruples as your fear of this man combines with your fear of the storm. 

“Aw, scared of the rain, little girl?”

You feel trapped, exposed. Your eyes are wide as the air in your lungs thins down to nothing. The officer steps closer, illuminated sharply in bursts of lightning. That helplessness you always felt as a child rears its ugly head. You feel the hot sting of tears prick your eyes. 

Gege, hurry up.

“Don’t worry, baby. I can take you home and protect you all night long.”

Your body freezes against your will as a particularly loud boom of thunder cracks through the air. Why won’t your stupid legs move? You need to get out of here. You need to get to safety. But your limbs are locked, and your lungs burn, desperate for air you can’t breathe in through the lump in your throat. The officer watches you, cocking his head to the side.

“It’s just you and me out here, baby. I can enjoy you all to myself for as long as I want.” 

Bile rises in your throat. You think about your two twin pistols, stowed away in your safe at home because you foolishly believed you wouldn’t need them while you were here with Caleb. 

Well lesson fucking learned. 

You need to get out of here. Fast. Thunder booms again, and you startle at the sound. But that little reflexive jolt of movement gives you a second of control back over your muscles. Immediately you pivot on your heel and run back towards the main terminal. 

“Help! Somebody, please!” You shout as loud as you can while you run. “Security!”

But your cries are lost to the air as another clap of thunder drowns it out. Panic floods you with adrenaline and you push yourself to run as fast as you can go. All you need to do is reach the main terminal and you’ll be fine. There’s a full staff of security and police officers stationed inside. Caleb will be here in a few minutes. He will help you from there.

You make it nearly halfway to the end of the waiting zone before the young officer grabs ahold of your arm. He yanks you back hard. His fingers bruise your wrist from the force of stopping your momentum. 

“Get off of me!” You shout, throwing your elbow back hard into his torso, “Security! Help!”

He’s stronger than he looks. Despite your struggling against him, he doesn’t yield. You kick your legs out against him and try to recall some of your self-defense training that you learned when onboarding as a hunter. You aim your elbow high, but he anticipates the blow and catches it in his hand. 

“Let me go, you fucking creep!” You shout at him. 

“I always liked a girl with a bit of fight in her,” he laughs in your ear, “I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

His arm snakes up and wraps around your neck in a chokehold. You duck your chin at the last minute, so he can’t cut off your air. The pressure against your jaw is bruising, and it only makes you struggle against him harder. His other hand grips onto the exposed skin of your thigh, reaching for the bottom of your skirt. As you flail against him, you can feel him getting aroused against your back. He’s getting off on the fight. 

You manage to land a solid elbow to his sternum, and it gives you enough of an opening to stomp down hard on his foot. He staggers and you push out of his hold. You rear back your fist and slam it hard into his chin. 

The rain surrounding the port goes eerily silent. The air twists and warps around you, distorting like heat waves over sun-baked pavement. The officer flies violently away from you. He crashes hard into the ground, before being forced onto his knees.

“The fuck?” He asks, struggling against an invisible force that binds him in place.

You could cry from relief. 

“What do we have here?” A dark voice taunts behind you. 

You whip around at the sound of the familiar voice. Caleb steps into the light beneath the port, emerging from the dark storm like an avenging angel holding an umbrella. His amethyst eyes are blackened with fury and locked solely on the officer who tried to assault you. 

“Caleb!” You cry out.

You rush towards him, and all but launch yourself at him as soon as you reach him. Profound relief lifts the weight of your fear off of your chest. He catches you with one arm and pulls you firmly into his side. He places a kiss on the top of your head while you burrow into his chest. 

“I’m here,” he soothes, “I’ve got you. There’s nothing for you to worry about anymore.”

Despite your reunion, his sunset eyes remained fixed on the officer supplicated at his feet with a glare that promises nothing short of death.

The officer freezes when he realizes who it is.

“I’m sorry, Colonel, sir, I had no idea she was your girlfriend. I thought she was a fly-girl, honest, sir.” 

Caleb strokes down the back of your hair before he steps forward, forming a tight fist in his gloved hand. The officer’s excuses cut off with a sickening gargle as his neck is crushed with the invisible force of Caleb’s evol. Thunder booms at the same time and it seems as if the storm itself surrenders to the colonel’s control. 

For the first time since he arrived, Caleb turns to look at you properly. Lightning flashes, illuminating the rage carving his face into a mask of unbridled fury. His thick brows angle low over hateful eyes. His mouth is a thin, flat line. It feels unfamiliar for you to see such a malicious face on Caleb’s body. Palpable bloodlust radiates from him. Caleb’s eyes trace down your form, zeroing in on your reddened knuckles, bruised arm, and the way fear trembles in your legs. He gently extends the handle of his umbrella towards you. 

“Go to the car. I’ll be there shortly,” Caleb instructs, before turning to glare down at the officer, “it seems one of my subordinates is in need of immediate disciplinary action.”

His dark monotone yields no room to disobey. Yet your feet refuse to move. Your heart begins to race for another reason entirely. A fissure of defiance holds you back. Whatever Caleb wants to do, he doesn’t want you to see. But that just makes you want to see it even more. 

“No,” you say as you stand your ground, “I think I’ll stay.”

Your words have an immediate effect over Caleb’s razor-thin wire of control. His head whips towards you, brows lowered in disbelief. His jaw ticks, and his eyes are narrowed. Your limbs shake as fear spreads through you once again. Caleb’s anger was always terrifying. 

“Meimei,” Caleb growls, “do you really wanna test me right now?”

His invisible grip over the officer’s throat tightens as he takes out his frustration with you on the man below. The officer chokes out a gargled wheeze at Caleb’s feet. 

You hold his stare, locked in a battle of wills. But you know how this will go. So you pretend to give in, a plan brewing in the back of your mind, and accept the offered umbrella. 

You can still watch. He just can’t find out. You can’t get caught.

“Fine,” you agree softly, “but don’t keep me waiting long.”

He nods stiffly, but you can see his relief that you’re leaving softens some of the tension in his jaw.

You walk towards the car as promised. But before you get too far, you turn out of view and hide behind a direction board. You wait a few seconds before gathering the courage to peer around it. Caleb’s attention is fixed entirely on the officer simpering at his feet. His tall body is rigid with fury and barely restrained power. 

He looks every bit the ruthless commander he’s become. 

“Which hand did you touch her with?” Caleb asks. 

His voice is low, deadly. You hardly recognize the words as coming from him at all. Your pulse pounds. Your palms sweat against the cold plastic of the umbrella.

“She came onto me first, sir! You gotta believe me!”

“Which. Hand?” Caleb repeats with a low growl.

The officer flinches. He offers up his left hand, the one that grabbed at your thigh.

“I’ll never look at her again, I swear! She’s all yours, sir!” The officer pleads. 

“No,” Caleb agrees haughtily, “you won’t.” 

The officer’s arm is drawn up into the air like a puppet’s limb on a string.

“Consider yourself lucky that I want to make this quick. You heard my girl. I’ve kept her waiting for me long enough,” Caleb muses. 

The words ‘my girl’ growled in that ominous, possessive tone make your stomach flip. A familiar warmth blooms throughout your core. You shiver from both the cold mist of the rain and the sensation that runs through your blood. 

Caleb flicks his fingers and the officer’s arm slams down hard onto the ground. The air above it waves and distorts as the weight of its invisible mass crushes down on the limb. The force increases until the splintering sound of shattered bone and concrete fill the rain-soaked air. The officer’s silent scream of agony is lost to the void of space in his lungs. When Caleb’s evol finally relents, the arm rests limp and mangled amidst the ruins of the broken pavement. The bones, muscles, and sinew are all but pulverized. The sickly dark-purple hue of the skin is obscured beneath a thick layer of crimson from burst veins.

“You don’t touch her, you don’t look at her, you don’t even fucking think about her. Do you understand me?” Caleb all but growls. 

Rage trembles in his voice and vibrates in the taut muscles of his body. You don’t know if you’ve ever seen him this angry before. 

“P-p-please d-don’t kill me!” The officer sobs.

Caleb’s face twists into a sadistic smirk. He looks downright malevolent in the shadows cast across his face by his hat.

“Oh no no no,” Caleb purrs, “I’m not going to kill you.”

His hand extends out before beckoning his fingers back in a ‘come hither’ motion. The officers eyes bulge. 

“After all, how are you supposed to suffer if you’re dead?”

You wince and look away, unable to watch as the officer’s eyes are pulled out of their sockets. His screams are cut off abruptly, absorbed into the artificial vacuum of space Caleb created. The air is deceptively quiet beyond the continuous patter of rainfall. 

You wait a beat before you glance back again. Blood stains the wet pavement. The officer lays collapsed on the ground, barely conscious. His face is completely unrecognizable beneath the thick layer of gore. 

Caleb steps forward. His heavy boot steps deliberately onto the officer’s pulverized arm and pushes down. The officer’s entire body spasms in his agony, contorting wildly until he’s frozen by Caleb’s evol.

“You will be relieved from your duties as an officer and will be dishonorably discharged from the Fleet effective immediately.”

Now’s probably a good time to go. You’ve seen and heard enough. However Caleb chooses to finish this is his business. You quietly hurry towards the car idling down the road, heart pounding in your throat.

You flash Liam a weak attempt at a smile when he glances at you from the driver’s seat. You fiddle with the damp hem of your dress, unsure of what to do with your hands. You shiver against the cold leather, and wait for Caleb to return. The bruised knuckles on your hand ache. Your mind reels. 

You knew Caleb was possessive. It drove you crazy growing up, how much distance he would put between you and everyone else. He never let any boys come close to you. He never let anyone ask you out. He always said it was because he knew what boys were like, and that none of them were good enough for his meimei. 

You also knew he was capable of violence. You’d heard stories from other kids about some of the things he’d done to the bullies that hurt you. You knew his reputation in the Fleet as a cold, merciless leader. You’d seen glimpses of it yourself when you were undercover. 

But you’ve never seen Caleb like this. He always made a point of handling family matters far away from you. His protection was as much of a safety blanket to protect your innocence as it was a leash that kept you ignorant to what exactly he would do to keep you safe. 

So his overprotectiveness, his possessiveness over you was unsurprising. But you didn’t know he was sadistic too. What else would he have done to the officer if he had more time? What has Caleb done to others in the past? What more will he do in the future? 

Has Caleb…killed people?

Killing wanderers was one thing. Killing people was another. You knew that as a member of the military, especially someone as highly decorated as he is, the possibility was always there, but it existed as an abstract concept to you. You figured you would be able to tell if he did. That murdering a person would have some kind of profound effect on his innocence that wouldn’t slip past your notice. 

But you realize now how naïve you’ve been. He’s much better at hiding than you gave him credit for, especially now as colonel. Caleb, your sweet, perfect (if sometimes annoying) gege, who nerds out over planes and sci-fi, and who builds and paints models in his spare time, is a ruthless commander skilled in interrogation, torture, and possibly murder. 

Your gege has become a very dangerous man.

Your mind races. Your hands twist at the hem of your cardigan sleeves, stretching out the thin fabric. The silence in the car is thick, interrupted only by the metallic patter of rain against the bulletproof roof. You shiver in your seat.

A few minutes later, Caleb hops inside the car. He shakes the excess water off of his cap, and commands Liam to set off with a sharp nod of his head. Without missing a beat, he leans over and unbuckles your seatbelt. You look at him quizzically, but he doesn’t even acknowledge you as he grabs ahold of your exposed thigh and pulls you into him until your sitting in the middle seat. He pulls your legs over his until they rest between his splayed thighs. His other hand wraps around your back, pulling you into the solid warmth of his body. 

You burrow into him, resting your head on his shoulder. The fabric of his jacket is stiff against your cheek, and the gold rope adorning his lapel digs into your chest, but you ignore the slight discomfort and all but melt into his side. You close your eyes, inhaling the familiar hint of ozone and man that combine into Caleb’s unique scent. You place a hand on his chest, directly over his heart, and feel the steadiness of its rhythm pulse against your fingers. 

The ride is smooth, given the time of night and the weather. You stare without seeing out the window. The last vestiges of your adrenaline dissolve the longer you’re held in his arms.

Caleb is equally as quiet as you are. When you glance up at his profile, he’s illuminated in waves by the passing street lamps. He seems lost in thought. In shadow, he looks dangerous. In light, he looks troubled. The pattern continues on and on without resolution. 

Feeling the weight of your stare, he turns to look at you. A small smile pulls at the corner of his weathered lips. The tenderness in his gaze pulls at your heartstrings. The flicker of heat simmering beneath your skin burns just a little bit hotter, and you shiver under his attention. He notices and frowns. 

“You must be cold,” he murmurs. 

With the flick of a finger, the air controls bend to the will of his evol and blast hot air towards the two of you. It melts away at the edges of the chill that settled over and inside of your bones. 

It’s almost surreal, in a way, to think that the man holding you so reverently in his arms is the same one who relished in torturing a man who dared to touch you. You don’t know which version of him is closer to the real him, and which one is the carefully curated performance. Not anymore. 

What kind of man has Caleb become? Who is he really?

Still, his attentiveness feels nice. Maybe it was best that you forgot about what you’d seen. Maybe you could tell yourself that he just takes his role as the head of house of your little family very seriously. Maybe you can be okay with that. 

After all, isn’t it comforting to know that there truly is no limit to the depths of Caleb’s devotion to you? If it came down to it, would you not also be willing to go to extremes to protect him? If you had seen someone taking advantage of him the way that man tried to take advantage of you, would it not send you into a blind fury? Honestly, you didn’t think you’d be as composed as he was. You already thought you lost him once. There was a nothing you wouldn’t do to keep him. 

And if you’re really being honest with yourself, you liked it. You liked watching him protect you. You liked watching him torture that man because he tried to touch you. While you knew as a hunter it was your duty to put your faith in the justice system, you liked that he took matters into his own hands and delivered that justice for you.  Forbidden heat swirls in your core, languidly lapping at the shores of your subconscious, forcing you to acknowledge the true dark depths of your desire. 

You turn your head and place a gentle kiss against the heated skin of his throat. 

“Thank you, Caleb,” you whisper into his ear. 

He shudders underneath you, and pulls you tighter into him with the arm he has secured around your back. He reaches for the hand pressed against his chest and gently pries it away. He holds it up to the light, eyeing your knuckles with a frown. He stares down at your bruises with a storm brewing within his sunset eyes. His thumb strokes idly across your fingers, just below the reddened skin. He lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses your knuckles with aching tenderness. 

“Are you hurt?” He asks softly. 

You shake your head, “not really. Just this and some minor bruising on my other arm.”

Tension casts a shadow over his face, but he nods at your words. 

“I’ll apply some cream on it for you later. It should help.” 

You just nod in acceptance. You fan your fingers out until your hand rests palm to palm next to his. His hands are almost comically large next to yours, and the illusion is only added to by his dark gloves. You wished he would take them off. You wanted to feel his skin against yours. 

“I gotta say though, you gave him one hell of a punch,” he smiles.

His pride is obvious in the way his eyes shimmer down at you. You flush and flash him a smile of your own. But the corners of your mouth are quick to fall. 

“I should’ve fought back sooner. I don’t know why, but it’s like my body was frozen. I wanted to shove him off and run away, but I couldn’t move.”

He interlaces your fingers and draws your hand up to his mouth, gently pressing another kiss to your hand. 

“Don’t beat yourself up. There’s no right way to respond in a situation like that. At first, I thought you wanted me to hurry because of the storm, but when you mentioned that someone was bothering you, it scared me, because I could only imagine how scared you must have been.”

Caleb sighs. He presses your joined hands to his cheek and closes his eyes.

“I should have been there sooner. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have even been there in the first place. There was a last-minute emergency in the Deepspace Tunnel that took a lot longer to resolve than I thought it would. I wanted to tell you to come by tomorrow morning instead, but there was never a good time. But that’s not an excuse. I should have reached out to you sooner. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry, Pips.” 

You squeeze his hand tightly. You can be angry at him for not communicating with you later, and you definitely will be, but he doesn’t need that right now. His self-flagellation already weighs down heavily enough on his shoulders. You didn’t want to add to his guilt. 

“It’s okay, I get it,” you say softly, before pulling back and smiling playfully up at him, “You’ll just have to try very hard to make it up to me then.”

Your attempt to lift the mood works. His twilight eyes flash with mischief, and his brow raises in a playful challenge. 

“Is that so?” He muses, while resting his chin on your hands as he made a show of contemplating what he could do for you, “I guess Chef Caleb can come up with a few ideas. How does a night of dinner, a movie, and a thousand apologies sound to you?”  

“Hmmm, I guess we’ll have to see. I should warn you, I’m very hard to please,” you tease, “As I said, you’ll have to work very hard to earn my forgiveness.”

The banter is familiar. The blanket of guilt pressing down on him lifts, and his attention narrows down to you. Between one blink and the next, his eyes darken to a smolder. A small smirk pulls at his lips and he leans in until you’re almost nose to nose. 

“Well if pleasing you is my goal,” he purrs, “then allow me the chance to demonstrate just how determined I can be.”

You gasp at his brazenness. Just like that, the playfulness between you evaporates. Heat and tension thicken the air in its place. Your brain short circuits as you scramble to think of a witty comeback. The fact that Liam can hear you both from the front seat makes the tips of your ears burn.

“Big talk,” You spit out eventually, your voice small and breathy.

It’s a lame comeback and he knows it. Caleb’s smirk deepens, and a flash of triumph darkens his amethyst eyes. If this is a game, then he knows he’s just won the first round, and he’s arrogant enough that he goes in for the victory lap. He leans in just the tiniest bit further, and nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours.

“Then it’s a good thing I’ve always been a man of action,” he replies just as smoothly as before. 

You’re saved from having to respond as the car pulls up to his house. Caleb winks at you as he slides his hat back on. He pops open the umbrella, and the air warps around it to keep it hovering, so he can use his hands to lift you out of the car. He gently settles you onto your feet before he grabs your backpack and slings it over his broad shoulder. 

When he turns to thank Liam for driving you both, you feel the heat and weight of his leather-clad palm press against your lower back. Every nerve in your body hyper-fixates on the small bit of intimate contact. You shiver and watch through wide eyes as the stoic adjutant nods. You both stand there watching as Liam drives off. For Caleb, it’s for security reasons, wanting to watch the car exit through the gate to his property. You just want him to keep his hands on you.

Caleb drops his hand to instead grab the umbrella and hold it between you. Not wanting to lose your physical connection, you thread your hands around the thick muscle of his upper arm. You feel him tense at the touch, but he doesn’t push you away. Your fingers grip tight onto the thick fabric of his jacket, and you huddle into his side, seeking warmth. You hear him take a deep breath, and can feel the expansion of his chest press against your arm. 

Your knuckles ache in the cold. A sliver of doubt creeps into your mind as you think about what happened earlier. Even though you were witness to his violence, would Caleb tell you what he did earlier, if you asked? Would he be honest? If he doesn’t, does that mean he doesn’t trust you? Does he think you can’t handle the truth? Does he still see you as the little sister he needs to protect from the world? How are you ever supposed to be his partner if he doesn’t see you as an equal?

“You’ve been quiet tonight, Pip-squeak. Penny for your thoughts?” He asks conversationally. 

“Caleb,” you start, voice catching in your throat. But you swallow past your reservations and push through. “What did you do to that guy earlier?” 

You anticipate his lie. You know he will never tell you the truth. You know that if he had any say in the matter, he would never let you see or have anything to do with that side of him. Your hurt is a jagged wound that chips away at your insecurities and sharpens the edges of your doubts. 

Caleb pauses, not expecting the question. You can tell he doesn’t like the direction this is headed.

“I didn’t do anything that he didn’t deserve. No need to trouble yourself over it anymore, Pip-Squeak,” he says.

“By doing what?” You press.

“By making sure that he’ll never touch another woman with or without her consent ever again. I won’t tolerate that kind of behavior in my Fleet.”

You know you should just let it rest. But his distrust is a dagger that plunges an inch deeper with every one of his evasive answers. 

“Caleb.”

“What?” 

“What does that mean?” 

Caleb stays quiet as you reach the front porch. He closes the umbrella and shakes off the excess rain, before propping it against the side of the house to dry. While he looks and acts normally, it is overwhelmingly obvious that he’s avoiding you.

You step forward to block his path to the door. You want him to stop brushing you off and take this seriously. He stops abruptly, not expecting you to confront him. He turns to you, finally giving you the full weight of his attention. But now that you have it, you find it overwhelming. 

His furrowed brows are drawn low over narrowed eyes that easily read the frustration written across your face. He looms tall and menacing over you, face shaded by the bill of his hat. The remnants of his earlier anger resurface in the strain pulling at the corners of his eyes and mouth. 

“Is there a problem?” Caleb asks. 

His voice is low and defensive. The words you wanted to say die in your throat, and you struggle to come up with a way to articulate what you’re feeling. 

“If you want me to come inside, then you need to answer my question, Caleb."

He sighs and glares at the doorknob behind you. You can see how hard he’s holding back his anger. Caleb hated arguing with you probably more than you hated arguing with him. But he’s close to the edge of his seemingly limitless patience with you. His jaw ticks as he grinds his teeth, before looking back at you with an expectantly raised brow. You swallow past your nerves. You have to go about this delicately. He’s very far from happy, but he’s letting you continue.

“When you say you took care of him earlier, what exactly did you mean by that?” You reiterate. 

Caleb’s eyes fall from yours to your collarbone. His nose scrunches faintly in the ghost of a sneer, before he manually smoothes out his expression. He’s very, very close to his limit. 

“It means that I did what had to be done.” 

The words settle heavily between you, short and clipped. His voice is low and edged with a dark anger he can’t hide behind his usual practiced neutrality. But your frustration simmers alongside his, fueled by his insistence to dodge your questions. 

“Did you kill him?” You ask him directly, barely daring to speak over the pounding of your heart. 

Caleb’s eyes fly to yours, and the storm outside is nothing compared to the turbulence in his gaze. He’s quiet, shoulders heaving as he struggles to breathe through the intensity of his emotions.

“Whether he lives or dies tonight, it doesn’t matter. He’ll never see or touch you again, I promise,” he vows. “Now let it be.”

“It’s a yes or no question, Caleb,” you press.

“I said let it be.” He snaps, venom dripping from his words, “Keep this up and you’ll regret it.”

His eyes lock onto yours with a violent intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve only seen that expression on his face a few times now, but this is the first time since the interrogation that it’s been because of you. He goes to step around you, but your feet move with him, blocking his path.

“Caleb—“

You don’t get the chance to finish your rebuttal before he suddenly stalks forward. You stumble backwards until your back hits the door. Your hands fly up to push against his chest in an effort to maintain some distance. But he looms over you all the same, all merciless anger and unrestrained hostility. His arm rests against the wall above your head. He crowds in close, uncaring of your hands, until your entire field of vision narrows down to just him. You feel the heat of his uneven breaths fall across your face.

“What is this, an interrogation?” Caleb demands, “what do you want from me?” 

You stare at his tie to gain some semblance of equilibrium. You can’t think when he’s this close to you, let alone when he’s this angry. You hated seeing him upset. You hate making him upset. You feel small and scared, like a naughty child that’s finally been caught stealing out of the cookie jar. 

His gloved hand grabs at your face, fingers digging into your chin to pull your face close to his. His hold doesn’t hurt, but his grip is firm. You don’t bother to fight it. His handsome face is twisted with the cold, unforgiving fury of the colonel. You feel like you’re strapped into the interrogation chair all over again, staring up into the face of a Caleb you don’t recognize. Except his anger now far eclipses the pantomime he put on then. It renders you mute. 

“What is it exactly that you want me to say, huh?” Caleb demands, “Are you testing me? Is that it?” His lips curl into a sneer and his eyes derisively rake up and down your trembling body, “Because you won’t be able to handle the consequences of that right now if you are, Princess.”

Your blood heats at what he’s implying. Caleb hasn’t punished you in a long time. It wasn’t unusual for him to discipline you growing up, since he felt like it was his duty as the older brother and man of the house to make sure you kept in line. But he wouldn’t do that to you now, would he? Your breath wavers at the thought. 

Caleb was never cruel or sadistic before, but after tonight, you’re not so sure anymore. You feel the adrenaline in your blood spike along with the heat between your thighs. Your body shakes as it processes the threat. Has Caleb thought about disciplining you recently? What did he want to do to you? Why did you want to find out? 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask breathlessly.

“It means that I’m still pissed at you for challenging my authority earlier. So consider this strike two,” Caleb explains slowly, voice thick with condescension, "When it comes to your protection, you will not disobey me again. If I tell you to leave, then you leave. Your safety is not up for negotiation.” 

His glare down at you is pure fire. His breath is hot as it ghosts atop your skin. He’s too close for you to think properly. All of your emotions collide in your head, leaving you drowning in a whirlpool of feelings you don’t understand. Your fear constricts your lungs, while your frustration heats your blood. Your attraction pulses between your thighs, clenching every time he yells at you or handles you rougher than usual.

“Do you understand me?” Caleb demands, drawing you out of your mind to focus only on him. 

He leans in close, his nose nearly touching yours. The heat of him is overwhelming. It pulls you in as effortlessly as his evol. You stay frozen, not knowing whether to shrink away from his anger or submit. You want to tell him that you understand and that you’re grateful for his help and protection earlier. But you don’t say anything, terrified that any sound out of your mouth will somehow only make things worse.

His grip on your chin loosens. His gloved fingers glide down the skin of your throat and spread until they span across the base of your neck. He’s not hurting you, he’s barely even touching you, but the implication sends your pulse skyrocketing all the same. 

He’s never done this before. This is new. Is this how he intended to discipline you now? Your eyes flutter and your breath catches. Between his arm above you and his hand across your throat, you feel completely and utterly surrounded by him. 

Your eyes slip closed as you try to gather your thoughts. Part of you wishes he’d apply more pressure. The gloves he wears are smooth and warmed by his heat. You wonder what it would feel like if he did this to you again, skin to skin. Your core drips at the thought. 

“Look at me,” he orders. 

He’s just as commanding as before, but his tone has shifted, evolving into something  less angry, but no less intense.

You immediately comply and look up at him through your lashes. Your faces are close enough that you can count the faint splattering of freckles across his cheeks. His face is still twisted into a cold, authoritative mask, but you see glimpses of something else, something heated and intense, permeating through the cracks. 

Caleb studies your reaction with blatant, undisguised fascination. He drinks in your response, your submission, with something akin to reverence. He seems just as lost in this sudden raw intensity as you are. Just as helpless to the temptation of pushing further, testing how far you’ll let this moment take you both.

He leans down, head lowering until his mouth rests just beside your ear. 

“I asked you a question, meimei.” 

His words are husky, almost sultry, if it weren’t for the implicit threat in them. It’s easy to forget that your both still mad at each other. You can feel the heat of his breath brush against your cheek. The sound of his voice spoken so huskily directly into your ear makes you clench. You shudder, and reflexively push into his hand around your throat. Fever spreads beneath your skin, prickling your nerves into hypersensitivity.  

He’s doing that thing again. Speaking in that voice to throw you off balance, to make you want to give in. The problem is that it’s working, especially held captive as you are. Was he demonstrating his authority over you to remind you of your place, or was his desire for dominance, for control over you, rooted in something else entirely? Either way, the longer he has you pinned in his grasp, the more your desire to please him overtakes your desire to defy him.  

“Yes, gege,” you whisper at last, “I understand.” 

His breath shudders and he pulls back until your faces are inches apart again. His eyes burn as they trace across your face, unable to settle on any one feature for more than a second. 

As if testing, his fingers twitch and apply the barest amount of pressure against your throat. You can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips. His gaze drops to your mouth, and darkens to a molten smolder. He’s fallen as deeply into you as you have into him. He tightens his hold more until the pressure he applies to the sides of your neck is firm. His fingers press expertly right into your arteries. 

Shivers wrack through your frame from the sheer, sudden force of your want. Your thoughts swim, dizzy from the headiness and limited blood flow. The air between you feels electrified and fragile. You want to close the distance between your lips so badly that drool pools in your mouth. 

All he has to do is lean in. Close the gap. Cross that line once and for all. 

“Good girl,” he purrs.

The words set off an explosion of pleasure through your mind. Your eyes flutter shut and you unconsciously arch into him. The last remnants of your sanity bleed through his fingertips. The fever inside of you spreads until you’re engulfed in a fire of need and desire. The temptation to just give in has never been stronger. You can’t keep pretending you don’t want to. You tilt your face up until your nose brushes against his. 

“Caleb,” you sigh, less than a breath away from his lips.

His name tastes like honey and sin on your tongue. 

He blinks rapidly at the sound of your voice. He shakes his head, as if waking himself up from a daze, and the tightness of his grasp immediately loosens. He blinks down at the wet ground. A humorless breath escapes from lips that flash with the ghost of a bitter smirk. He takes one last lingering look at you staring dazedly up at him with his hand around your neck, as if committing it to memory, before he steps back completely. He gives you some much needed space to catch your breath and come back to reality. 

You watch his transformation as he wipes away any traces of the emotions he just felt from his face and body. They’re elaborately stuffed behind the placid, familiar mask of your gege. But it’s a hollow illusion. When his eyes rise to yours again, they are warm and soft, but distant. His expression is superficially affectionate—warm but half-baked. It’s a wall of frosted glass. No longer transparent, but easy to shatter.

His hand trembles as it rises to tuck your hair back behind your ear. The intimate gesture is familiar and gentle. Despite his best attempts, there’s a mournful shadow that follows into his movements. You can practically taste his guilt and his shame as they roll in like a fog over him.  

You can’t bring yourself to feel guilty about what almost happened. These rare, confusing, charged moments are like a drug that kept you awake into the late hours of the night. You crave them more than any other kind of high. The craving only gets worse the longer that you both continue to dance around this thing that neither of you are brave enough to acknowledge. 

You’re tired of holding back, of hiding. You’re tired of being a coward. 

But you’re also tired of his avoidance. You were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t realize until now that he didn’t answer your question. 

You wonder what it will take for him to finally drop the masks, the personas, the lies. Will he ever allow you to see him as the complete person that he is? You wonder when he’ll realize that there’s no darkness he can fall into that will scare you away. No limit you would consider too far. You’ll join him in the deepest shadows, if it means staying by his side. His devotion to you does not run in only one direction. 

Maybe you should have said something. Maybe you should have responded differently. But it was too late now. The moment was gone.

Chapter Text

Caleb’s house is cold. You shiver as you toe-off your shoes, and take your backpack from him to place it on the bench by the door.

You walk to the living area while he disappears into his room. Another shiver wracks through you, and you wonder if now is a good time to ask for one of his hoodies. You packed one of your own that you stole from him the last time you came to visit, but because you slept with it nearly every night, his scent has faded. 

You connect your phone to his speakers and play some music from one of your many shared playlists. It helps break up the sterility of his hyper-modern home. Despite him giving you free reign to decorate how you please, there’s only so much warmth you can bring to the sleek dark bones of his place. 

You pour some water for the both of you and start rifling through his fridge. Though he offered earlier, it was too late for him to make anything for you now. You didn’t think you’d be able to stay awake long enough to eat it. Finding some leftover mapo tofu, you pull it out and turn on his rice cooker. 

You reach out and tap on a holographic display that glows softly against the window above the sink. It flashes to life, showing the time and weather forecast for the rest of the night. The storm has quieted down in the last hour, but it will be picking up again around three am. You have a couple of hours to mentally prepare yourself. Though your fear of storms wasn’t as severe as it was when you were a kid, particularly bad ones still effected you. You turn off the display and frown. It’s going to be hard for you to sleep tonight. 

Back when you still lived together, you used to sneak into Caleb’s room whenever there was a storm. You’d always tell yourself that this time you’d be strong, this time you wouldn’t need him, this time you’d conquer your fear. But inevitably there’d be one particularly bad clap of thunder, or the trees would cast shadows on the walls that moved just so. You’d convince yourself you saw something, and be up and creeping down the hall before the next flash of lightning could strike.

Caleb never turned you away. Ever. Even when he was in the deepest state of REM sleep. The second your body joined him on the mattress, his arms would reach out and burrow you close to his side. Sometimes you’d fall asleep instantly. Sometimes you’d jump so much at every sound that it would wake him up. But he never complained. He’d just ramble half-asleep to you about random stories or facts he’d learned, until you eventually fell asleep. Sometimes he would even seek you out first, if he thought it might help you. He’d either stay with you in your room or carry you back to his. 

He was always so good to you. He never hesitated to take care of you, or figure out what you needed, even if you didn’t know it yourself.

But you don’t know how true that is anymore. It’s not that you doubt Caleb’s devotion to you—he’d drilled that into your head ever since the moment you met him—but you know the dynamic has changed a lot, despite both of your efforts to maintain some semblance of normalcy. If you needed him tonight, you knew his door and his bed would be open to you, but would his comfort feel the way that you remember it? Are you chasing the memory of a person who no longer exists?

He’s not the same Caleb you grew up with. He’s a ruthless, commanding leader with eyes like daggers and words that cut like steel. He’s been altered by the trauma he’s endured since the explosion. He’s been forged into a weapon of Ever’s design. Every action he takes is calculated, and every word he speaks is intentional. He’s so rigidly in control of everything that he does, that even his natural reactions feel in some part like performance. 

Was the summer-like warmth you associated with him just a meticulously crafted mask to hide the lust for violence and control underneath? Exactly how long has this been going on for? After watching Caleb torture that officer earlier, you wonder how you can be okay with allowing the same man who can maim and pulverize others with the subtlest twitch of his fingers to be the same man you turn to now for comfort and intimacy. 

No, things won’t be the same as you remember it at all. Your feelings towards him have grown into something that makes you obsessive and greedy. You liked his single-minded possessiveness and authority over you. You liked his devotion and fixation on you. You liked his willingness to do anything, even torture and kill others, for you. You liked playing with the fire of your own forbidden desire for him. 

The kind of intimacy you seek from him now is one you know he can never give to you. It’s wrong. It’s taboo. He takes the role of your gege very seriously. What you want will jeopardize that. It's unfair of you to ask it of him, or to keep pushing him for it. 

But you’ve always been selfish. You’re a product of his creation, after all. Do the nuances matter if you know that the second you join his bed, he’ll find a way to fit you in his arms? Does it matter how much your dynamic has changed, how much you both have changed, if you know Caleb will always be wired to take care of you, to protect you, and to be there for you no matter what? Does it matter, if it means getting what you want? 

Does it matter if Caleb has killed people? Does it matter that he will never tell you? Does it matter that you will never truly know all that he’s done or what he’s capable of? 

You don’t know anymore. 

As if summoned by your thoughts, thick arms cage you in as they come to rest on either side of your hips on the countertop. Metal on your right, flesh on your left. Caleb’s heat radiates along your back. He’s far enough away that you aren’t touching, aren’t technically crossing any boundaries, but you’re so hyperaware of him that it makes no difference. 

You catch your reflection in the window, and he looms large and tall behind you. He’s changed into a soft t-shirt and sweats. His hair is still damp from the quick shower. It isn’t often that you are confronted by how much bigger he is than you. Though you’re not a small woman yourself, you look tiny compared to him in the glass. The size difference makes your pulse pound. He looks good behind you. Like he belongs there. 

“Whatcha makin’, Pips?” Caleb asks casually, assessing the few items you’ve pulled out. 

“Leftovers. I’m just waiting on the rice.”

He smells like body wash. It mixes with his natural musk and the apple-cinnamon infuser he has plugged in. Your eyes drift shut as you let it wash over you. You feel dwarfed and surrounded by him again, like you’re nestled in your very own custom Caleb cocoon.

When you open your eyes again, they catch on your reflection. Caleb looks back at you. Your breath stutters when you realize that you’ve been caught. All of the intensity you’ve been trying to ignore resurfaces in an instant. That electric, staticky sensation buzzes beneath your skin. The anticipation flushes your cheeks, and you fight the urge to rub your thighs together. He’s too close to you. He would feel you do it. Caleb’s face is difficult to read. He just stands there, looking at you looking at him, while tension sucks out the thinning air between you like a vacuum. 

In another life, if things weren’t as complicated, you can easily imagine him behind you, forcing you to watch yourself in the mirror as he fucks you. You imagine him wrapping his hand around your throat the way he did earlier, but this time he would be firm in his grasp. He would whisper filthy words into your ear using that voice, while his other hand would grip hard onto your hip, imprinting the shape of himself into your skin. He’d stare at you just like he was now, watching you fall apart for him. You can see it so clearly. You want it so badly you ache. 

The rice-cooker goes off, and you yelp, flinching back against him. Your hand flies up to your chest as you try to calm down your heart’s sudden, frantic beating. Caleb catches your shoulders to gently push you off of him while he laughs.

“Woah there, scaredy-cat,” he teases, “what’s got you wound up so tight?”

“N-nothing,” you stutter out. Your cheeks burn hotter, and you clear your throat, “I…uh…I’ll be right back.”

You scamper out of his hold and all but run to the bathroom. You need to pull yourself together. It wasn’t right to have these thoughts. It wasn’t right to imagine these things about him. Here Caleb is, just trying to take care of you, and you’re fantasizing about him roughly plowing into you from behind. You run the tap on cold and dampen your fingers. You press them to your neck and nape, shivering as the chill works it’s way down your spine. 

It would be best if you just went to bed directly after eating. You’re too tired, too emotional. You’re not doing a good job of keeping yourself in check. If you’re honest, you know you’re not even trying. 

You dig your palms into your eyes as hard as you dare without smudging your makeup. You’re overthinking it all too much. Again. You need to get out of your head and stop overcomplicating everything. 

With a frustrated sigh, you turn off the tap. You touch up your makeup with your fingers and straighten out your hair and clothes. You will not return to him looking like you just had an existential crisis over the fact that you want your brother to fuck you. 

You came out here to escape from Linkon and have fun. So from here on out, you were on Operation: Good Time. No more sulkiness, no more serious talk. No more analyzing the nature of your relationship or contemplating the duality of man. 

Good vibes only. 

With that in mind, you leave the bathroom and rejoin Caleb in the kitchen. He’s washing dishes. He glances over at you when he hears you approach. 

“Go ahead and dig in, it’s all yours,” Caleb offers.

You glance over at the table to see that it’s been set up for only one. 

Your brow furrows. “Aren’t you going to eat too?” 

“I already did,” he says, before gesturing to the table with his elbow, “now eat. I don’t want a hangry little Pip-Squeak on my hands tonight.”

“I don’t get hangry,” you sniff. 

Caleb just looks at you with a raised brow and amethyst eyes alight with mischief. 

“I don’t get as hangry anymore,” you amend, scowling and crossing your arms, “I’ve gotten better.”

Caleb side eyes you with a sly smirk. “Uh huh. Riiight.”

“Ugh, whatever. Believe what you want,” you huff, muttering under your breath, “stupid, dummy, Caleb.”

You sit down, but not without eyeing him skeptically. Despite your lighthearted banter, you can’t help but worry. He’s been bulking up lately muscle-wise, so you know he must be eating. But you also know that he has a tendency to skip meals when he’s stressed. You’ll have to keep an eye on him this weekend to make sure he’s eating properly. 

You dig in. You had almost forgotten the rich depth of flavors in all of Caleb’s cooking until they burst to life on your tongue. Even a day old, the mapo tofu tastes amazing. You inhale nearly a third of the plate in one go, barely taking time to chew, as your appetite hits you all at once. You hear him chuckle and glance up to see him shaking his head, a smile on his lips. 

“Don’t you dare make fun of me, Caleb Xia,” you scold, while pointing your sauce-covered spoon at him. 

His smirk only grows and he raises his hands in mock defense, “I didn’t say anything.”

“I mean it.”

“I didn’t.”

“Caleb.”

“Pip-Squeak.”

You glare at him. He just chuckles and finishes cleaning the dishes. He gives the counters a final wipe down, before strolling over and turning on the tv. 

As he walks, you admire the strength of his frame. His white shirt is tight around his shoulders, accentuating the thickly defined muscles of his arms and upper back. It’s on the shorter side, just long enough to not be considered a crop, but when he stands up straight, you get a peek of his lower abs. His sweats are a light grey that sit low on his hips. They cling just right to the shapely muscles of his ass. You can see the shadowed indents of his dimples on his lower back.

You take a long sip of your water. 

“Wanna watch anything specific?” He asks you over his shoulder. 

You’re eyes snap up to his, wide as an owl. For a second you blink at each other before he turns his head back to the tv. But you catch his smirk and the side eye he flashes you as he does. 

Your cheeks burn. He definitely caught you staring at him. But he’s also letting you get away with it. For now.

“Whatever you want’s fine,” you finally answer, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, despite the embarrassment threatening to swallow you whole, “I’m probably gonna head to bed pretty soon afterwards anyway.”

“You gotta preference for genre? I don’t really care either.” 

“No, you can just put on whatever.”

He scrolls until he finds an astronomy documentary series narrated by a popular tv personality. You’ve always found the theory of astrophysics interesting, even if the math and science behind it was far beyond your comprehension. Caleb, bless his heart, did his best to break it down for you, but it’s safe to say he was unsuccessful. There’s a reason he went into aerospace for a career and you didn’t.

You finish your food and wash up. Caleb turns down the majority of lights in the room, softening the vibe. He turns off the music, so that it doesn’t clash with the show. When you’re done cleaning, you open up one of the ottoman’s and retrieve a blanket for the two of you to share, throwing it onto the couch behind you. As you straighten, you feel the cold metal of Caleb’s artificial hand wrap around your arm.

Caleb spins you around and pulls you into him. You freeze for a moment, surprised by the sudden embrace, before sinking into his warmth. You nuzzle your face into his neck and breathe deep. The weight of his arms around you is heavy and comforting. His hand strokes down the back of your hair, and you would purr in contentment if you could. 

This is what you needed. This is what you came here for. 

After a minute, you pull back, keeping your arms lazily looped around his neck. You both just stare at each other for a moment, unsure of what to say. 

“Hi,” he smiles softly.

He sounds shy, almost embarrassed. But you know Caleb. He doesn’t get embarrassed. 

You giggle, smiling brightly back up at him. “Hi."

“It’s so good to have you home, Pips. Sorry for the shitty reunion tonight. None of this went the way I wanted it to,” he says, before pulling you back in and resting his cheek on the top of your head. “But like you said, that just means I have to spend the rest of the weekend making up for it, huh.”

“S’okay, Caleb, it’s not your fault some men are creeps. I’m just happy you came when you did. Thank you for stepping in,” you reply, wrapping your arms tighter around his shoulders. 

“Of course. I will always protect you,” he vows. 

It’s something he’s said at least a hundred times by now, and you know you’re bound to hear it at least a hundred more. But it never fails to stir a flame deep inside of you that refuses to go out. It blooms throughout your nerves, setting your body alight, as the safety and security of being in Caleb’s arms makes you feel like you’re finally home after a long deployment. 

Your rest your head against his shoulder, and lower your arms to fiddle with the metal dog tag around his neck. His long fingers play with your dress. His twilight eyes are dark, illuminated in bursts by the light of the TV. They sweep down your body like a tangible caress. You shiver under his attention, and your nipples stiffen against the thin fabric. You wonder if he can see them through the thin padding of your bra.

Logically, you know you need to pull back. Your feelings tonight are already too intense as it is. You’ve been fantasizing about him nonstop. You’ve been clingy, unable to give him space or keep your hands off of him. You only just got here. You won’t survive the whole weekend like this. 

You’re surprised Caleb is even entertaining you this much. He usually hits his limit for physical touch by now. When you don’t know when to stop, you can always rely on him to pull back. He’d capture your greedy hands and dodge your complaints with a few pointed quips or successful distractions. You never would have dared to act like this at Gran’s house. 

But this isn’t Gran’s house. No one is here to stop you. No one is here to remind you of who you are to each other, who you’re supposed to be. No one is here but you to re-establish the boundaries of what’s appropriate. You know you don’t want to be the one to have to do it, and Caleb isn’t pushing you away either. 

He’s here. Watching you. Touching you. Barely. Almost. 

“This is new,” Caleb mutters, almost more to himself than you. His eyes settle back on yours, a bold challenge sparking in their amethyst depths, “did you wear this pretty little dress for me?” 

He throws it out there like he’s teasing you, but you know it’s a sincere question. Your face flushes at having been called out. You don’t trust your voice, so you nod your head. You love that he pays close enough attention that he didn’t even have to ask. Staring up at him, you don’t even bother to hide that you’re anticipating his reaction.

The smile that pulls at his lips is pure smug, masculine pride. He steps back while he keeps his eyes on you. He sits on the sofa with one leg bent and one sprawled, spreading his thighs wide. The hem of his short shirt rides up, exposing the deep v in his hips. Your eyes snap to his skin, and greedily follow the path of the veins running down his abs until they’re hidden beneath the waistband of his sweats. His hooded eyes flicker from your hair to your bare toes. His teeth flash as they dig into his plump bottom lip, before it springs free, plump, dark, and shining. 

You’ve never wanted to suck on something so badly in your life.

Just one taste. That’s all your asking for. Maybe a nibble. But that’s it.

“So, what are you waiting for, Pips? Give me a twirl. I want to see it,” Caleb instructs.  

The flush along your cheeks deepens. His audaciousness is only encouraging yours, and you get an idea. A very daring idea. A very bad idea. You hold his hooded gaze with an innocent one of your own. Your hands toy with the hem of your cardigan, pulling gently at the thin fabric. 

“Do you want me to take this off for you, gege?” You ask in a soft, earnest voice.

You’re playing a very dangerous game.

If you thought his gaze was hot before, it’s nothing compared to the way that he looks at you now. There’s surprise there, which is to be expected. Even for you, the provocative question is bold. But it sparks the dark glint of a challenge in his eyes. The sheer intensity of his gaze is enough to send your pulse hammering. He raises a thick brow, lowers his chin, and looks up at you with the same faux innocence through his dark lashes. 

“Do you want to take it off for me, meimei?” Caleb counters.

His voice is low and husky. It’s filled with both a promise and a dare. If your question was the initial serve, he’s volleying back at you hard. You recognize the game of chicken for what it is. He’s testing you to see how far you’ll go. 

Will you break first, or will he? 

So you lock eyes with him and nod your head. “I just want to make sure you can see my new dress properly.” 

He smirks at you, seeing the words as the flimsy excuse they are, but nods his head nonetheless. “Then go ahead, Pips,” he says, “do what you want. I’m not going to stop you.”

With his explicit permission, your fingers tremble as you slowly undo the buttons of your cardigan. There’s very little plausible deniability around what you’re doing. Showing off your new outfit for your brother shouldn’t feel like this. The adrenaline running through you is cataclysmic. It’s equal only to when you’re in a life or death fight against wanderers.

But his nonchalance gets to you. You’re over here overheating from a single look, while he just sits back on the couch and watches you all unbothered. Time to change that.

“I thought of you right away when I saw it at the store,” you say with a plan formulating in your mind. “The color reminded me of you.”

His eyes track your fingers as you slowly make work of your cardigan. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your body. Your skin rises with goosebumps. Can he see it? Can he see the way just a look from him effects you so deeply? Alters your very chemistry?

“The top part of it also reminded me of one of the dresses you got for me before, the green one with the lace at the bottom. Do you remember it?” 

You look up at Caleb beneath your lashes. He swallows thickly. Your greedy eyes track the subtle bob of his Adam’s apple with devious delight. He nods absently. His eyes are unwavering from your hands. 

You bite your lip to stop from smiling, and try to suck down the rush of giddiness from having his full, undivided attention like this. You’ve never done anything like this before. Neither of you have. The forbidden thrill is going to be the death of you. The heat of your cunt is molten. You wonder how your arousal hasn’t started leaking down your thighs.

When the buttons are fully undone, you slowly pull the sleeves down. The cardigan falls to your feet in a delicate heap. You swear the sound of it hitting the ground is louder than the soft background noise of the tv. 

The top of your dress is just low enough to tantalize while still being considered modest. It’s loose, and tied together with a delicate bow. The swell of your breasts practically spills from the top, making them look larger than usual. The waist clings tight, emphasizing the size of your bust and narrowness of your waist. 

You knew exactly how flattering it was to your figure. 

You hear Caleb exhale hard and shaky. The tips of his ears are bright red, with a flush blooming across the high points of his cheeks. The sight was enough to do you in. He’s still trying to pretend he’s unaffected, but you know better. You know exactly what you’re doing to him. 

“And then the skirt part reminded me of another one of the dresses you got me. You know, the pink one with the ribbons on it? This one is just a little bit shorter. You don’t think it’s too short, do you?” you continue. 

You make a show of pulling at the sides of the skirt, showing it off. It flares out at your hips, falling in delicate, loose layers to just above the middle of your thigh. The cut flatters the width of your hips, creating a dramatic hourglass illusion. You’re already lucky to have generous curves, especially with your high-intensity profession. The dress plays up your feminine softness while showing off your toned muscles.  

When you glance up at him, he shakes his head, his eyes riveted on the plushness of your thighs. You can’t help but press them together, squirming in an effort to relieve some of the pressure boiling inside of you. Caleb shifts too, sitting forward on the couch with his elbows resting on his splayed knees. His necklace sways in the open air, the red apple twinkling in the dim light.

You slowly turn around, pulling your long hair to one shoulder to show off the back. It’s cut low to the top of the skirt, covered only by delicate strings crisscrossing down your spine. You can’t help but glance over your shoulder. 

You watch him watching you. You feel exposed and on display in a way you never have before. Despite being fully clothed, you feel like you might as well be naked. You have his rapt and devoted attention. It makes you heady with lust and power. 

“The real reason I bought it is because of the back,” you continue, voice getting huskier, “I liked how open it is, and the detail of the straps. I thought they were super cute.”

You slowly turn around to face him again. Biting your lip, you wait for him to say or do something in response. You knew exactly how much summer dresses like this drove Caleb wild. His insistence on buying you so many year after year was indication enough.

“Sooo,” you prompt, “what do you think?”

Your voice is small and breathless. The approval you seek is genuine, and you’re no longer just playing around. You really want him to like it. You want him to like you in it. 

Caleb’s heavy-lidded gaze drags slowly from the bust to hem before lazily making its way to meet yours. He beckons you closer with a subtle crook of his metallic fingers. The gesture makes you all but leak as you think about those same fingers doing that same motion inside of you. What would it be like to feel the metal inside of you? Would it be cold to compared to his flesh’s heat? The mystery makes you pant. It’s something for you to fantasize about later.

“C’mere, Pip,” Caleb instructs, voice gruffer than usual, “let me see it up close.”

You have to tell yourself to slow down as you fight the impulse to run to him. He watches you approach with the fixed gaze of a starved predator. Your flush deepens, and when you realize how clearly he can see it, it only makes you burn more. 

His large hands smooth down the sides of your waist, making a show of feeling the silky fabric. One hand slides just beneath the flowing hem of your skirt. The heat of his large palm spreads across the back of your thigh, gripping tight enough to pull you in closer to him. He widens his stance so it’s easier for you to step between his sprawled legs. 

Though Caleb sits below you, you feel wildly out of control. You’re a spectacle for his viewing pleasure. An object only for his admiration. His eyes rake up your body from the short hem up to your eyes like he’s appraising a priceless work of art. 

With his grip on your thigh, he gently turns you around so that your open back is visible to him. It doesn’t escape your notice that your ass is all but in his face now. Maybe it doesn’t escape his either, because you hear him softly clear his throat. Caleb pushes gently on your thigh and you step forward to make room for him to stand. He’s reverent as he sweeps your long hair back, gathering it into a loose ponytail that he holds in his left hand. This way he can see the back of the dress up close in its entirety.  

You tremble in his hold. Your thoughts are filled with nothing but pure pornographic filth. The hand in your hair makes your heart race. You’re so wet. The entire night has done nothing but rile you up higher and higher, and you don’t know how much more you could take. Every look, every touch, sets your mind and body ablaze. You’ve never been this turned on before. The strength of your reaction to him is overwhelming. 

But Caleb still hasn’t said a word. A flash of insecurity spears through you. What if you’re reading this all wrong? What if you’re just making a fool out of yourself? What if you’re sexualizing an experience that actually is purely platonic to him? Does he even like it? You were going to wait for him to speak first, but you don’t think you can anymore. You’re already on edge from your arousal, but the mounting anxiety is what breaks you. 

“Do you like it, gege?” You ask in a small, breathless voice. 

You feel the heat of his breath dust across the exposed nape of your neck as he exhales hard. The whisper of a touch travels down the path of your spine, following along the ties that crisscross down your back. The cold tip of his metallic finger slides between one of the ties, and flexes, yanking you back suddenly. You’re not expecting it and stumble back. You only stop when you feel his finger straighten to keep you from going any further. 

You’re not close enough to touch him, but the space between you two is down to nothing, just a few millimeters of air. He lowers his head down next to yours. With your hair still held loosely in his grasp, you can feel the heat of his skin so close to yours and you shiver in his arms. 

“Do I like it?” He purrs into your ear, “I like it very much, meimei,”

You almost jump when you feel the soft pressure of his lips press down reverently on your exposed shoulder. Your eyes flutter closed. Your terrified that if you move or make a noise, you’ll break whatever spell he seems to be under. The hand in your hair pulls gently, exposing more of the side of your neck to his perusal. Electricity shoots from your scalp in a rush down to your core. You have to swallow hard past your instinct to moan.

The tip of his nose drags along your skin and trails slowly up the side of your neck. Your nipples are stiff, aching peaks that long for his mouth or his fingers. Your skin is hyper-sensitized from the tease of his mouth. That kiss makes you greedy. You want him to taste every inch of your body, and offer yourself up as a sacrificial buffet for him to devour whole. 

“This dress,” he continues, as he places another tender kiss against your cheek, “Is this a reward…” the hand in your hair tightens, pulling your head back against his shoulder, and whispers directly into your ear, “or a punishment?”

You have to bite your lip hard to keep in the sounds of your pleasure. Your eyes close, and you can’t help it as your body arches back into him. But you don’t make contact. You’re blocked by the invisible wall of his evol. Your head is so clouded with need and lust that you can’t make sense of why it’s there or what he’s asking you. Your entire body burns. Your cunt throbs. All it would take is one swipe of his finger to completely unravel you. You’ve never been this on the edge from simple, small touches like this. He’s never done anything like this to you before. 

“I just wanted to wear something nice for you, Caleb,” you whisper. 

He huffs out a breath of a laugh against your feverish skin. You feel the hand in your hair twitch before letting it drop back into place. He runs his fingers through the strands, straightening them out. 

“It is nice. Very nice. I appreciate you thinking of me, Pips. You’re so thoughtful,” he praises gently.

His words turn your insides to goo. Whatever reaction you fantasized about when buying the dress couldn’t hold a candle to reality. There’s a buzzing skating underneath your skin. The heat between your thighs is unbearable. You’ll have to throw out your underwear. 

“You’re welcome, Caleb,” you purr, turning around to face him again, “just wanted you to be happy to see me.”

You struggle to surface through the mush coating your mind in your lust for Caleb. He smiles back, but if you look closely, the edges of it look strained. You can see some of the mischief and daring in him dim by the second. Though his cheeks are stained with the remnants of his blush, it fades quickly under your watch. 

He’s pulling away, pulling back.

You’re not surprised, but you can’t pretend to feel anything other than crushing disappointment.

“I’m always happy to see you, Pips,” Caleb says, but his words don’t match the shadow cloaking his eyes.

Melancholy rolls over him like a storm cloud.

“You don’t seem very happy right now, Caleb,” you point out with a frown. 

He angles his head down and sighs. He sounds more tired than any man his age has any right to be.

Even though he’s right in front of you, it feels as though he’s miles away, like his head is still drifting somewhere in the depths of the Deepspace Tunnel. 

You step up to him and cradle his face between your palms. Gingerly, you lift his face up to meet yours. He looks lost, like he’s locked somewhere deep inside of his own mind that only he can reach.

“Talk to me, Caleb,” you plead softly, “Let me in.” 

He stares down at you, and you can see the conflict swirl in his eyes. He lowers his gaze and sighs again.

“I should have been there sooner. You waited so long for me earlier. And during a storm no less,” he shakes his head, “If I’d just taken the time to text you, if I let you know that I was going to be so late, none of this would have happened,” he explains. 

His words are full of bitterness and self-loathing. His large hands pull at your wrists, gently prying them away from him. He turns and softly, almost mournfully, kisses the center of your palms one by one. 

“I’m so sorry, Pips. I should have protected you better. You went through all the effort of coming out here and dressing up for me, and I didn’t even give you the chance to properly show my appreciation it.” He nuzzles his cheek into your palm. He looks at you, brows raised, and amethyst eyes round with sorrow. “Please forgive me, meimei.”

The puppy-eyes he gives you are earnest and sincere with regret. They make it impossible to stay mad at him. He knows it too, always pulling that look when he needs a ‘Get Caleb Out of Jail Free’ card. You’d accuse him of not playing fair, if he didn’t look so despondent. 

“I appreciate your apology, Caleb. I know you usually do your best to keep me in the loop, so I won’t hold it against you. Just please don’t let it happen again. I worry a lot when I know you’re at work and I don’t hear from you. And it was rude to keep me hanging.”

Caleb inhales slow and deep and presses your hands to his forehead as he bows his head down. 

“I know. It won’t ever happen again. I promise,” he vows. 

You know he’s serious. He would never take your safety and happiness anything less than critically seriously. 

“I forgive you, Caleb,” you say, and you mean it, “If it makes you feel better, we can say that you saved me tonight. Super Hero Caleb came to my rescue.” you cajole lightly, tugging softly at the strands of his hair as you weaved your fingers through them. 

“You wouldn’t have needed saving if I was there to protect you sooner,” he protested, hands tightening on your hips. 

“Ugh, Caleb, you’ve gotta stop beating yourself up. I told you I’m fine, you big dummy.”

He lifted his head and looked at you with big, imploring eyes. “So you’re not mad at me? Promise?”

“If you don’t start believing me soon, I’m going to be very offended,” you huff dramatically and pinch his cheek. 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” he laughs softly, while swatting away at your hand. 

The laughter dies down, and you stare up at him with your hands still hovering around his shoulders. His own remain anchored to your waist. As the silence between you grows, the air thickens again. 

But you can’t do this anymore. Not tonight. You can’t experience any more almost moments without doing something reckless that you know he’ll regret in the morning. And if if you have to endure him emotionally edging you one more time, you’re going to kill him. 

Caleb’s lines have blurred tonight, more so than they ever have before. His iron-clad restraint over his composure was abandoned the second he saw you at the train station. You’ve never seen him lose control of himself like this. You’d wonder if he might have been under the influence of something if you didn’t already know Caleb was sober. You suppose it was too much to ask that things continue the way you wanted. 

But this was already so much progress. You can work with this. If he was pushed this far tonight, he can be pushed even further in the future. You’re willing to wait for as long as it takes, if it means you have him the way you want him in the end. 

“Let’s go to bed. We can redo everything in the morning,” you offer. 

He nods along with your suggestion and pulls back. You grab your backpack and wait for him to turn everything off before walking down the hallway to your bedrooms together. 

“If we do a redo of tonight, can I ask you to wear this dress again at some point before you leave?” He asks while trailing behind you. 

You smile broadly, victoriously, because you know he won’t see it. “Yeah, I can do that,” you agree, “but only if you earn it.” 

You reach the door to your room and flick on the light. Caleb leans in the doorway with a tired but mischievous glint in his eye. 

“Challenge accepted.”